Eight-Ball: Hustler Two
by Litehawk
Summary: Note: the title is suppose to have numerals instead of words i did this because of a glitch that they would get cut out. By the Way this is a future i thought of after you beat the Ultimate 9-ball P.S i only played Armored Core: Masters of Arena 3 Chapter
1. Chapter 1: The Startup

Chapter one sorry is down for repairs 


	2. Chapter 2: A New Goal, A New Purpose

1 Authors Note (Again): I made up some names and places that are not true to the game. I am just being original and please don't say I copy names.  
  
2 Chapter 2: A New Goal, A New Purpose  
  
Feyhander jumped, his AC unit flew through the air soundlessly without his boosters. His energy was low, drained on his plasma cannon and rocketing around. His opponent was not much better than he was. Both were on their last thousand points of armor. Both with only a few rounds left in their weapons. Both with weapons that only needed that many to kill of the opponent. The missile flew under him and exploded in a small sun. Feyhander was consumed by the explosion, he saw his armor points drop to the red but, he was not dead yet. He dropped back to the ground, his foe was there waiting for him. Before hitting the ground Feyhander hit his boosters and sidestepped the energy blade. Strafing his opponent he fired the last few rounds of his plasma cannon. The rounds hit and the enemy AC burst into flames and stood in a standing position; spent and charred. Feyhander stopped too. They both opened whatever remained of the cockpit doors and crawled out and jumped to the floor.  
  
The battle was over. Robotic drones came and took their AC's away. His enemy walked up to him.  
  
"Good battle. You won fair and square like always." Said Gregoruf.  
  
" How many times are you going to challenge me?" said Feyhander.  
  
"Until I either beat you or someone else beats me and becomes second," laughed Gregoruf.  
  
"Well then I'll see you later." Said Feyhander.  
  
They both walked away in good moods as always. The costs of rounds and repairs were paid for by the people controlled the Arena's. They made their living selling tickets and videos of the battles. The prize money and free costs was the incentive for AC pilots to fight in the televised Arena's.  
  
People could make a living off of fighting in the Arena, Sub-Arena, and Ex- Arena. But none did. They made their livings off of the bounty of the mercenary jobs they did. Although lately things were in a dark age, the companies who sponsored the AC pilots all mysteriously collapsed. So did the Ravens Nest and other organizations that helped keep things in tune. But life went on; human nature for you only cares about immediate life and surroundings.  
  
Feyhander traveled back to his home base, where his AC was waiting for him having repairs being done by the diligent robotic arms. He sighed. Life had gotten extremely dull despite the Arena battles. Few people offered missions these days. Only large organizations had the resources to hire an AC. Most of them were gone thanks to him and his destruction of the Ultimate 9-ball. The supercomputer apparently downloaded its systems into it in attempt to ensure its victory. But life would go on and people would recover. Only thing was that now he no longer had a purpose to fight as an AC pilot. He had sought vengeance. It was brought. He fulfilled his goal and purpose. So then now what? He no longer had a purpose for piloting, no longer a goal to work for, why not just relinquish his title as top ranking Arena champion? He never had a girlfriend, never had time, forever the pendulum of mission after mission, and battle after battle. He did not think he could. He was never the social type. Only time for fighting and training was he. What more could he be now? Admittedly he was only 26, he never met anyone who he was attracted too or any who had anything other than admiration for being top rank.  
  
He wondered why he was so depressed. He still had a whole life ahead of him, there was still always time. All things considered, he had a pretty exciting and good life. He woke from his stupor. The com-link for his mail was blinking. He opened it with a click of a button.  
  
To: Feyhander  
  
From: Gregoruf  
  
Great, thought Feyhander, he probably wants to challenge me to another match. But so soon he wondered.  
  
I've just been defeated.  
  
Those four words together Feyhander thought he would never see Gregoruf say. Next to him, Gregoruf was the best damn AC pilot in the world. He rushed to Gregoruf', doing some suicidal driving. He knocked but the door opened automatically. Inside was gloomy Gregoruf.  
  
"Come, sit down." Choked Gregoruf. Through the window were the charred and battered remains of his AC.  
  
"How? Who? When?" asked Feyhander. To him only an hour passed since his battle with Gregoruf. In truth it was 17 hours.  
  
"Just an hour ago, by this man who calls himself Hustler 2 and his AC 8- ball, and he did so with all these new weapons and gadgets and armor pieces. I've never seen the kind of arsenal that guy had. He had weapons I have never dreamed of. I didn't even manage to hit him once." Sobbed Gregoruf.  
  
Hustler 2? 8-ball? The old top Arena champion and his enemy was Hustler 1 piloting 9-ball. Could this be a new menace? Could the computer have survived? Could it be a new one? He considered everything. He had learned long ago that there was no such thing as coincidence. A year ago he killed 9-ball now a year later 8-ball?  
  
"Don't worry I'll stop him." Said Feyhander. A menacing grin broke his other wise sorrowful face. He was sorry for Gregoruf but he just truly woke him from his stupor. He now had a new purpose, a new goal, and a new thing to devote his time and energies towards. He would stop this 8-ball. No matter how many there were. He would find the Master Supercomputer and crush it once and for all. And assure that no more ever; ever arise out of the depths to wreak havoc on humanity again. 


	3. Chapter 3: Battle

1 Chapter 3: Battle  
  
The two solitary AC's slowly walked into the center of the Arena. The champion and challenger stood in front of each other, motionless. The camera's turned on, the floating cameras revved themselves up, and the built in visual feeds of the AC's activated. The primary monitor in the center top of the vast Arena transmitted the countdown as thousands upon thousands of people watched in anticipation of the new battle. The battles between the old 2nd placeholder were quite exciting but it was getting old. This new challenger was a delightful change to the old battles and most had already heard of the battle before. They made their final bets, only a few betted for the old champion. Loyalty was always based on show. And the new challenger gave a lot of it.  
  
The monitor transmitted the countdown. The crowd literally stuck their faces to the screens. The countdown ended. The AC's stood still. The crowd wondered why they did nothing. Only the seasoned veteran AC pilots, most of who fought the challenger knew why. They knew that each was slowly feeling each other out. Waiting for the other to make their move.  
  
The 8-ball stood still, its black and white body was larger than most AC's it possessed six back mounted weapons and dual hinged arms and legs. Its core was similar to the new lightweight standard one except it was larger and had multiple rounded protrusions evenly spaced throughout its surface. Its head was more like a medieval knight helmet with glowing yellow eyes. Its most dominant feature was that it had a constantly twitching tail. On the end was a crablike three-way claw with polished edges. Among other things people wondered how that AC was allowed to compete. The judges should have ruled it out, unless of course they were properly bribed. Its feet were bird talons with one large talon raised above the rest on each foot. The reminded the people of a velociraptor, using its killing claws to strike the final blow. Its hands were claws with weapon holes in the center. The powerful laser weapon was somehow integrated to the hands; the hands themselves also were boasting powerful energy claws that extended beyond the fingers themselves. No one had ever seen it use its strange back weapons. The AC having ended all matches without the need proved that the pilot was as skilled as the AC was powerful.  
  
The Death29ball was a strong contrast, with its simpler standard AC build using the standard bought parts. Although the pilot had the AC's name changed just before the match. It was now to be called the Death28ball. Most of the viewers could figure out why. It had lightweight next generation armor from top to bottom except for the headpiece, which was an extremely heavy piece. Its reversed joint legs held the pressure of it and its heavy weapon easily. It boasted nothing more than a laser blade, plasma cannon, missile launcher, and pulse gun. The only thing remarkable about the green and blue AC was that unlike others it did not need to stand still to fire any of its back mounted weaponry, an innovation the pilot kept to himself.  
  
Then in one instant both AC's fired, Death29ball fired its plasma cannon while 8-ball blasted a combined laser from both hands. The beams struck each other in mid-blow, lighting the arena and temporarily blinding the cameras from seeing the two AC's circling each other, both with amazing speed and agility. Death29ball rushed foreword with rocket boosters and activated its laser blade for a severing blow. The core of 8-ball began lighting up the protrusions began spinning and within feet of hitting, the blade splintered like a broom hitting a steel wall. The audience was amazed at this unseen talent, a personal shield! The shield revealed itself as a blue dome around the AC and its tint lessoned the farther the part of the shield was away from the blade. It obviously consumed a lot of power and the AC could do little else but keep thee shield on. Then in one blur, 8- ball activated its laser claws and swept them at Death28ball. The claws broke through its own shields but intercepted the blade, swept through it and left deep gouges in the core.  
  
Death28ball was swept back by the powerful blow; it depleted a large chunk of its armor points as well as raising hell with its power levels. The pilot new another close combat attempt would be fatal, so he switched to his modified pulse gun to trade blows. The 8-ball was far too agile and dodged them all before running at ramming speed towards Death28ball. At the last moment it jumped and turned in mid-air to bring its tail to bear. Death28ball was far to skilled and boosted back; the claws missed but instead of finishing its sweep, opened back and revealed a red dot at the tip of its tail. The red do began to glow and it created a small sphere that expanded in size ten-fold before being release in a burst of energy carrying Death28ball backwards until it hit the arena wall and the energy ball exploded damaging its already severely damaged core. Electrical bolts zapped all around it.  
  
Despite it all Death28ball was very well built and survived in one piece. One more blow of even the smallest power would unfortunately kill the AC and the pilot. 8-ball was not finished though. It brought its back weapons to bear, they were double grenade cannons, double missile launchers, and a double pare of chain guns. In one glory blazing blast, 8-ball fired them all out. Death28ball max out its boosters and flew high above the exploding ball of fire. The blast was too much and consumed the AC in fire. Everyone thought that it was the end of the top ranking pilot and his AC.  
  
Then he and his AC had burst out of the ball, scorched and burnt beyond recognition but still moving. Death28ball then locked its missiles at 8- ball and fired them all before blasting all the energy out of its plasma cannon. The AC just processing that its enemy had survived, attempted to retract its back weapons in order to maneuver. The AC was too slow and was surrounded by a ring of exploding missiles that kept it from escaping by the force of their explosions. When the AC raised its head to see if it could boost out it was struck through the head by the single blast of energy by the plasma cannon. The headpiece really did possess a helmet that was shattered by the blast. Before the 8-ball could recover, its head was vertically sliced open by the laser blade; it proceeded to cut the entire AC in half. Both of which exploded to pieces, one because of damage and the other because of stress. Medical units began to arrive as the battle was counted in favor of the ranking champion.  
  
As the teams worked feverously to find the bodies some of the remains of Death28ball stirred and the burnt and haggard body of the pilot came out. The teams then turned their attention to finding the definite remains of the 8-ball pilot. Most did not expect to find anything as the laser blade probably wiped the pilot out, and one because he knew there was only a cold calculating computer. He was severely surprised at the sight of a large piece of the core stir and then open to reveal the pilot, a girl. The people were astonished no more than the apposing pilot. She was determined and cold-blooded looking. As the team offered their medical assistance she simply waved them aside. She walked to the exit and left.  
  
The single audience turned off the screen. It digested the information form it and its Hustler 2 program before its destruction. The computer was not worried, even if it could feel emotion, its most important piece was still alive and she was returning to her. She was its random component. After months of studying its enemy the computer could not find how it could have defeated Hustler 1. It finally reached the conclusion that it was the human mind and movements were never always logical. They could not follow patterns and efficiency as easy as it could. It also processed the pilot's unnatural capabilities. The only way it seemed to defeat it was to add what its older counterpart lacked, a human mind to help. After extensive months it had accomplished that phase and its testing was perfect.  
  
The object was not to defeat the pilot in the last match, merely to feel out his skill and reaction times. The pilot showed the ability of snatching victory form defeat, the very ability the computer now processed capable of stopping. It now had a human pilot that rivaled the skills of its enemy. She was extremely willing to help. Ironic that its predecessor's demise was destroying the pilot's home and family, this time that pilot destroyed the very things of hers in his attempt at revenge. The computer had to severely restrain her capabilities in the test, it was crucial that the computer let him win this first round; the second will be his death. Next time she will not be restrained, and next time she will have the Hustlers 2's full backing and the Ultimate 8-ball to command. 


	4. Chapter 4: Mission

Chapter 4: Mission  
  
Feyhander lay on his bed, in the middle of the night yet he was wide-awake thinking. How was it possible? There was supposed to be nothing but a computer how could there be a human, a female at that? Could it be an android built to house the hustler two programming? Perhaps it was built to unnerve him. Yet if that was true that meant she no it lost on purpose. Then again why build a housing for the program when it would never need to show itself unless defeated, perhaps to preserve it from total destruction? No, it could always create another that meant that was a flesh and blood person I just fought. She looked at me with the most hatred I ever saw in anyone's eyes, yet there was not an ounce of emotion despite it. Did the computer take her involuntarily? Impossible that hatred was far from fake, so she went to the computers side voluntarily. She looked familiar but I can't quite place the face with a name or where I saw her. All I seem capable of remembering is that face, that soft, gentle face contorted with a deep hatred and loathing, she wanted me dead. I could probably kill her yet I can't even bring myself to think of it. She was beautiful, somehow that was all I could think of, that and her skill. Her skill rivaled my own, she was a deadly adversary who despised every fiber of my being, yet I couldn't bring myself to lay a single finger on her. What was wrong with me? She was only another woman I had met plenty many who both liked me and were much hotter than she was. What if? What if I might be, no, I never had I never will. I could never possibly be, and yet, whenever I think of her. could this possibly mean I was. The message-mail beeped, Feyhander's only two-way link to the outside world. Only his most trusted friends and people with jobs for him knew the address. It was a mail for a mission; one of many that had been offered to him after is spectacular defeat of the 8-ball AC. He quickly skimmed through the letter taking in the basic of what it said and offered. He was about to put it on hold when he comprehended who sent it and where it was. It was from his old raven contact, the one who told him never to listen to the companies and who he never heard from after the destruction of the computer. Where it was scared him even more, where he destroyed that computer, what was offered was the exact same amount, the entire letter was the same he saw that long time ago except for the last sentence.  
  
She's waiting for her revenge because you killed her family and she wants to see you the pilot who killed them dead, and I guarantee she will be armed infinitely better.  
  
Feyhander shuddered, that letter shook him deeply. He had to know who she was and he had to re-equip his AC and to make it better than ever. There were very few new parts that were on sale in the machine shop. None of them he knew he wanted for his AC. He started to type a general for hire board message, as it was from him it would get top listing. He specified he would work only for the best and most unavailable AC part there were, as long as it was built with the AC's speed, agility, and power in mind, everyone knew armor was always a must. He also specified that the best weapons were good too, that was all he wanted except for the money to make repairs. He sent back all the letters adding that to them, all except for one. Feyhander wrote multiple letters calling in favors and tapping into the informants, he had to know who that female was. He had to know his enemy. He sat alone in his home slowly waiting as more and more mail pored in asking for his service or to tell the valuable information he was seeking. He finally got up and looked. Most of the information was sketchy or contradictory. None of it seemed to agree, all claimed she was human but as for the she part well, not everyone agreed. Then the last letter came from one source he never expected to hear from despite the last letter.  
  
You really want to know about me? Well you can't handle the truth the truth is beyond you. My name is Killess Morguen, I was a daughter a man you killed, he was my only family because the rest died, and you killed him even after he surrendered. You will pay with your life for that, after I make you suffer like I have.  
  
Feyhander was not amazed by her telling him that in a letter, he was amazed that he apparently killed someone after he gave up, he never recalled killing someone when they surrendered. Yet the last name was somehow familiar. Than it hit him, that was the last name of the man who hacked into the botanical garden only to surrender at the sight of him but to be killed by 9-ball coming in. Wouldn't that mean she would have equally have wanted to kill the computer? Unless the old computer had altered the files on that, he never did see mention of the appearance of 9-ball in the mission files. Than could the computer have used that fact to trick her into joining its side. Feyhander than remembered where he saw her; it was at the man's funeral, her face was shrouded in a black net, he attended because in a way it was his fault that man died yet he was not the direct cause. The computer had twisted her mind; she hated and waned to kill him all over a misunderstanding. He knew he could never kill her now; then again he had to face her. What to do, what to do, Feyhander decided to leave that to when he was ready to face them. He erased all the information, as he no longer needed it. He poured over the mission requests looking only at what they offered. Who, where, and what no longer mattered to him, if it offered him what he wanted he took it no matter the danger.  
  
* * * Killess quietly brooded in her room. As she held her knees to her chest while sitting on her bed she wondered. What had she done wrong. Was it so bad to respond to her mortal enemies search to see who she was? After all, she knew him very well it would have been dishonorable to have killed him without him knowing who she was. She had honor unlike him. She would enjoy killing him. She did not know what she did wrong but she did know she would win and the only remaining question for her was fairly simple. How should she torture him to death because she would not allow him the honor of death with his AC. So she thought of her strategies and of how to kill him, slowly of course. Perhaps slowly ripping his heart out, or maybe. So she brooded on how to kill him while the computer on how to suppress the truth from her and still kill him, all while he was accomplishing mission after mission to gather all the parts he needed for the battle.  
  
* * * Feyhander switched his boosters to max and jetted himself to the roof of the warehouse. The renegade AC's and their pilots were in there with the 1,000 people hostage. He had to take all the dozen out within the ten minutes or the first hundred would die along with years of research files that cost over a billion credits. He had to do it quick or they would realize what was happening. Feyhander blew the roof door open and jumped down and landed on the first AC he thrust his AC's left arm into the back of its neck and activated his energy blade, the light was totally muffled but the head came neatly off. Feyhander slid off the body and ran to the next one and pressed his AC's gun at point blank into the opponent's chest. There was a brief bit of light, more like moonlight glinting on armor and the AC fell to the ground immobile. Feyhander had just finished hacking of another's head when the lights were hit and he saw he was surrounded by an even dozen of them boxing him in on all four sides. " So we finally meet, you were quite impressive in that battle earlier on but not even you can take all of us on." Came a voice from the Ac to his immediate left, the obvious leader, without looking at his insignia." Instead why don't you join us then we can become the Renegade Thirteen instead of dozen. Thirteen is such a more threatening number even more than fourteen. So how about it?" " You know the answer to that" Feyhander responded. " Yes, well its always worth a try you know that?" continued the leader." In that case you know what I am about to say and that's kill him." All twelve AC's charged at him. Feyhander easily jumped out of the way and brought his plasma gun to bear. He spent half his ammunition on a large but slow tank AC, only to spend the rest on another. He armed his missiles and fired them at three reverse jointed AC's as they flew through the air one exploded, another landed in a crumpled heap, but the third kept coming. Feyhander blasted it with his AC's pulse gun. Three four legged AC's came at him all armed with missiles so jumping would have been fatal. Feyhander instead boost ran behind them and then jumped at the last moment to let the missiles hit one full in the back. The other two tried to fire their bazookas only to hit each other in the crossfire. Feyhander took the moment while they were stunned to fire his pulse gun and decimated the remaining two. According to his count that left four AC's unaccounted for including their lead. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Four different grenades from four different launchers from four different sides impacted him at the exact same time. The force of the blows literally shattered his armor as his AC lay in a smoldering ruin kneeling on the ground black, ashen, and smoking. " Invincible nothing, that wasn't too hard." Laughed one of the pilots. " Except for him taking out ¾ of our total fire power." Responded another. " Yeah well he ain't gonna take out anything but a waitin number in that big arena in the sky." Chuckled another. " Hold on his AC's damaged but its still in one piece!" cried the leader " No way nothin' could have survived that!" exclaimed another. " That's what we thought about that battle in the arena," said the leader. Sure enough the AC began to stand up creaking. It was almost nothing but an exoskeleton. Feyhander understood he was almost dead yet he could still take them out. He ejected his back arsenal, dropped his plasma gun and shook off all the armor pieces that were only just holding on. He activated his energy blade and charged at the leader. The leader was too much a veteran to have been taken out so easily but his blade could not stop Feyhander's. It sliced cleanly through and neatly severed the leader AC's arm before Feyhander brought it to behead it. With the leader gone the three remaining AC's were still to stunned to realize they could more than likely kill him and simply tried to run away. This made skewering them all the easier for Feyhander's super light and super fast AC. " Mission accomplished in 8 minutes and 49 seconds." Radioed Feyhander. Well, thought Feyhander, am ready to face you. With my upgraded AC. May I have the strength to face you Killess. Because I might, I just might be. 


End file.
